Zombiepocalypse!
by eleven19
Summary: Storybrooke is infested with zombies! Dr. Whale invents a new, resurrecting formula that proves to be disastrous. When this perfect-on-the-outside little hellhole sees the dead rising, Regina, Robin and the rest of their newfound snarky gang try to survive the zombies-and each other. Ships: Outlaw Queen, Swanfire, Red Hook
1. Intro

**This was requested by my bro, Marrilyn: a zombie-comedy. And if you squint, you can also catch some "Bates Motel" references, :D**

* * *

 **_Six months earlier…_**

Cora Mills shook her head ruefully, looking out the window at the sun-baked landscape of dead grass and dried, wilted leaves. It was the worst drought the town had ever seen: rain was a long-distant memory, and the once-green fields were now brown and yellow and parched from baking in the thick heat for so long.

Everyone knew Storybrooke ran on those fields. No one would openly discuss it, seeing as marijuana was _technically_ illegal, but it was common knowledge that those fields were the town's economy: it sure as hell wasn't the artisanal cheese stores.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called, not taking her eyes away from the window. The door swung open, and she could hear the flutter of Dr. Whale's white lab coat as he strode into the room. She turned, raising an eyebrow at him. "Victor…Any progress?"

He nodded, a small smile spreading on his face. "Definite progress."

"Good." Cora settled into her desk chair with her mouth set in a grim line, absently straightening the framed picture of her daughter on her desk. "God knows, the money in this town is drying up even faster than the damn fields."

"I think I've done it," he said breathlessly. "I-I think I've created something that can fix this."

Cora raised her eyebrows. "I'm listening."

Victor brought out a flurry of papers and shoved them across the desk at her as he started explaining feverishly. "We've been testing on individual prokaryotic cells in the lab, and I think the basic theory can transcend to more complex cells with a few modifications. These cells were, by every scientific definition, _dead._ But with this—" he pointed to a long chain of letters and little number-subscripts, some chemical formula that was beyond Cora's high-school-level comprehension of chemistry—"with this, we can essentially resurrect these cells. We repaired the damaged DNA strands and revived the ATP conversion process…"

Cora furrowed her brow, trying to decipher the long-winded explanation as he went on. He pointed out more formulas, more diagrams, more chemical symbols, none of which made sense to her. He was in the middle of jabbering on about glucose when Cora held up her hand and interrupted him.

"Can you just explain to me, how this is supposed to help?" she asked, frowning.

Victor grinned, and pointed out the window. "Those fields," he said. "You think they're dead from the drought. And you're right, they _are._ But with my formula, I can mutate those cells enough to make them come back to life."

Cora sat up, looking at him with wide eyes. "You can bring the fields back?" she asked, hardly breathing.

"I can bring the fields back."

* * *

 ** _Today…_**

" _AAAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"_

Regina's eyes flew open at the sound of the terrified screams outside her window. She jumped out of bed, stumbling toward the window to look: the residents of Storybrooke, running away in a frantic stampede as the stiff-legged, glassy-eyed corpses lurched after them.

"Goddamn it," she muttered, grimacing as one of the zombies sank his teeth into a man's neck and viciously ripped out his throat. Three or four others stopped to join in on the feast, bending over the bloodied body and slowly lifting chunks of flesh to their mouths.

Behind her, the door burst open; she whirled around with wide eyes, gasping as a zombie clumsily pushed its way in.

" _SHIT!"_ she screamed, scrabbling backwards as it caught sight of her. Her hands frantically moved around, searching for something— _anything—_ that remotely resembled a weapon, or at least something that could bash the brains out of the motherfucker.

Its footsteps were getting closer; her fingers closed around the bedroom lamp, and she tore the cord out of the wall as she swung it around. It caught the zombie in the back of its head with a sickening _thud!_ Not enough to penetrate the skull, though; it threw its head back and howled, arching its back before coming back up with a furious growl and gnashing its teeth. Regina screamed as it opened its mouth, displaying a full set yellow, rotting teeth, and swung the lamp again.

"NO!" The zombie had grabbed it and ripped it out of her grip, and was now advancing on her as she frantically stumbled backwards—over the bed—tumbling to the other side—against the dresser—

"REGINA!"

She and the zombie both whipped their heads toward the door at the sound of Robin's voice. He looked at her, then flicked his eyes briefly to the zombie; almost as an afterthought, he fired a shot from his gun and hit it straight in the head.

"Are you all right?" he asked, not even glancing as the zombie dropped to the ground. He walked over, looking at her concernedly. "He didn't bite you, did he?"

"No," she said shakily. "Didn't get me. Can't say the same for my lamp…"

Robin twisted his mouth regretfully. "You _did_ love that lamp."

"I did," she sighed.

They stepped over the body to sit down on the bed. Regina gripped Robin's hand, still trembling. "I've never seen so many at once before," she said. "But it's like there's a stampede or something. What happened, why are there so many of them?"

"I don't know. I woke up, and everyone was screaming." He held the gun, raising his eyebrows. "Lucky I had this after all, eh?"

"Robin…" Regina closed her eyes exasperatedly. "This is _not_ the time for ' _I told you so'._ "

"I'm only saying, it's a very effective means of protection." He glanced at the zombie on the floor, and nodded at it. "I think Larry would agree with me."

"Larry?"

"He looks like a 'Larry' to me," Robin shrugged.

Regina stared at him for a minute; then slowly trailed her eyes back to Larry, watching the blood and brains leak out of the gaping wound in his head. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat, and looked back at Robin.

"So, where did you get the gun?"

* * *

 **I get lots of requests, and it may take me a little time to get to them but as you can see, you guys—I DO keep my word! So if you've requested something from me, rest assured, I will write it for you: I have them all in a To-Do List, so I haven't forgotten any of you.**

 **Anyways, the next chapter will be much longer than this one, this is more of an introduction to the situation at hand. Still, reviews would be nice…PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE? (okay, I'm done being an attention whore for now.) But seriously, please review :D**


	2. Need a Friend for the End of the World?

**_Two months earlier…_**

 _"_ Coffee, gentleman?"

Gold glanced to the side, where Neal Cassidy—his right-hand-man—sat, a thoroughly unimpressed expression on his face. "Thank you, Ms. Mills, but I think we'd rather just get into the matter at hand," Gold said smoothly.

The smile on Cora's face slipped for just a fraction of a second. Gold smirked: he couldn't blame her, for being scared: As the head of the most powerful drug family in town, he was a dangerous man and tended to strike fear into people's hearts—particularly those who depended so much on him. And though his fields were dead ands product was drying up by the minute, he still had enough money, guns, and shady employees to intimidate Cora Mills.

"So, what's this about a 'solution to the problem'?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "My time is precious, and I'd rather not waste it on you."

"Mr. Gold," Cora said sternly. "I'll thank you to respect this office, and treat me with all due courtesy. You may have this town in your pocket, but I am _still_ the mayor."

Gold exchanged a derisive look with Neal, who rolled his eyes. They didn't have time to _mind their P's and Q's,_ they had another shipment coming in that needed to be dealt with, rollers who needed to be dealt with, a few embezzlers who needed to be dealt with.

"I'm a busy man, Mills," Gold said testily. "Let's just get this done."

Cora looked at him for a minute, her eye twitching as she tested his resolve; Gold stared back, completely unfazed. With a noise of exasperation, Cora gave up; she turned some papers around and rummaged in her desk to extract a thick manilla folder, which she dropped in front of them.

"Victor Whale is, essentially, a genius," she said abruptly. "He's found a way to cure your fields. Here."

Neal raised his eyebrows, glancing quickly at Gold before turning back. "Cure the fields?" he repeated incredulously. "What, of _death?"_

 _"_ Actually, yes." Cora looked between them, clearly enjoying their stunned expressions. "Hence the term ' _genius'._ " She pushed the folder across the desk. "You can read all the science behind it if you want, but yes—Victor Whale has found the medical means to resurrection."

"And I'm guessing it's expensive," Gold said shrewdly while Neal perused the file. "This little elixir of life he's created can't come cheap."

"There are financial negotiations to be had," Cora said carefully. "But well worth it, if it can save the fields, don't you agree? They're not earning you any profit dead."

"True…" Gold tilted his head, considering. "All right, I'll talk to my boys down at the lodge. We'll see how much we think your formula's worth, and then we'll talk."

"Think fast," Cora said as Gold stood up from his chair. "You think this is F.D.A-approved? If the feds find out, they will shut this lab down. Hell, they'll shut this entire town down, once they see your little garden."

"Yes, and you with it," Gold snarled. "So don't try to frighten me, Mills. I'll talk to my boys at the lodge, and we'll be in touch. Neal, we're going."

"Mmm-hmm." Neal stood up from his chair, hesitating with the file in his hands; he glanced at Cora, and held it up. "Hey, can I keep this?" he asked. "I'd like to take a closer look at it."

"By all means," Cora said, waving him on. "I'm sure you'll find it to your satisfaction."

Gold smiled coldly. "We'll see."

* * *

 ** _Today…_**

Regina gripped the baseball bat tightly as Robin stuck his head out the door, quickly sweeping his gaze from side to side. Zombie lunged past, clumsily following the screaming herds of townspeople.

"So, what's the plan?" Regina whispered. "Go out there in a blaze of glory, and just beat the shit out of as many zombies as we can? Because as cool as that sounds, I doubt we're going to last longer than ten seconds."

"Nope," Robin said, frowning at the chaos. "We're going to steal one of those cars, and hightail it to the lodge."

"The lodge?"

"Yep." Robin glanced at her over his shoulder and—seeing her eyes narrow—gave an exasperated scoff. " _Regina,_ come on! It's our best shot!"

"The _lodge?_ " she hissed. "You mean, your druggie camp?"

"No, I mean, the place that has guns and shelter and—"

"Druggies."

"Look, I know you don't like it, but we don't have time to argue about this!" Robin said impatiently.

Regina glowered at him, and pointed a threatening finger in his face. "As soon as this zombie bullshit is over, we're going to have a little talk about your career choices. Because I'm telling you right now, guy—there's no way I'm going to finish getting my college degree, graduate from law school, earn the nickname 'Dragon-Lady' from the other prosecutors, and then consider settling down with a _drug-dealer._ "

"Watchman," Robin corrected. "But let's worry about this later, okay?"

"Fine."

Robin stuck his head out again, his eyes darting side to side. "Go!" he shouted, and took off, firing bullets left and right as zombies swung their claws and rasped threateningly. "Regina?"

"I'm here, I got your back!" She followed closely behind, darting on the tips of her feet and swinging her bat every time a zombie got too close. She and Robin worked well together: him with his bullets, blazing the trail, and Regina providing back-up with her rage-filled swings. "Okay, so if you weren't a drug-dealer, we'd make a great— _UH!_ Take that, you bastard!—we'd make a great cop team!"

"Watchman!"

" _Whatever!"_

Robin turned around, probably to give her some sassy comment or other—a truly stupid thing to do in the heat of battle. Regina screamed as a zombie leapt in front of him and flung out its claws. "Robin, _DUCK!"_

Robin dropped, and she swung the bat viciously, sending in the skull underneath the putrid flesh shattering; the bat came away bloody, with little chunks of brain still clinging to it. Robin stood up, still breathless, and nodded at her.

"Thanks."

"Don't die on me, Loxely," she said darkly, and held up the bat. "Or you'll get the same treatment."

"All right, all right…"

"No, seriously—if you become a zombie, I'm not pulling punches. And I'd hate to break that beautiful face, so don't become a zombie, okay?"

"I won't become a zombie," he promised. "Now, come on—pick out which car you want to break into."

Regina was about to point to a black car that would have been pretty sweet if it wasn't smeared with blood and flesh, but a scream made them both whirl around: through the broken window of the Lucas Craft shop, they could see two girls, desperately flinging candles and staplers and whatever craft supplies they had behind the counter at two zombies lurching toward them. Regina looked at Robin; he looked back; reluctantly, they switched directions and darted for the shop.

* * *

 ** _Two months earlier…_**

"Are you _kidding me,_ Mom?" Regina said, throwing down the stack of papers furiously. "You can't go giving this shit to _Gold!_ He's a fucking mob boss, for Christ's sake!"

Her mother frowned, putting a finger to her lips. "Regina, quiet—it's almost time for my speech, I need to focus."

Regina closed her eyes in exasperation, pinching her forefingers to the bridge of her nose. "Mom," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You can't go out there and honestly expect to convince everyone you've just found some magical solution that's suddenly going to flood this town with money again, but you have to keep it secret because _philanthropists wish to remain anonymous?_ "

"Brrrp! Brrrp! Brrrp!" Cora drummed her lips, warming up for her speech.

"You think they're all not going to know it's drug money?" Regina demanded. "This entire town runs on those stupid marijuana fields, and you think they're going to buy a secret-philanthropist story?"

"Wao-ow, wao-ow, wao-ow—"

"You can't support this, Mom! People get _killed_ because this drug ring! And do you know how many times Robin's disappeared on mysterious road trips, and come back with guys who look like they were _raised_ in prison? It's dangerous, why are you _allowing_ it?"

"Because that's politics," Cora said, supremely unconcerned as she fluffed her curls in the mirror. "Money matters."

"That formula could end up being toxic. It could end up causing a whole host of environment problems, and you're going to be personally responsible for killing another piece of Mother Earth."

"I'm extremely sad about that."

"I can tell."

Cora checked her buttons and smoothed out her jacket. "How do I look?" she asked, posing with her arms up.

"Like a cold, soulless, greedy automaton."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

Regina rolled her eyes as Cora patted her cheek and moved around her to go wait in the stage wings while Sidney Glass announced her. Cora always made every speech, every town council, every ribbon-cutting a huge production: she needed an audience the way a druggie needed a fix.

For her part, Regina thought the whole situation was disgusting. She couldn't wait to get out of this drug-run town, where the economy depended on shady dealings and suspiciously missing people; where big men with bats demanded money from little weaselly potheads; where people like Mr. Gold recruited guys barely out of college to ruin their lives and get roped into the drug business as "watchmen" over his damn fields.

She grimaced as she walked into the auditorium, catching sight of Emma Swan smiling at Neal Cassidy: the sheriff's daughter, openly dating the town's youngest drug lord or whatever his _official_ title was, as Gold's hand-chosen assistant. What the hell kind of town was this where this kind of thing _happened?_

Not that Regina had much room to talk: after all, she was the mayor's daughter, as well as an aspiring lawyer, and her boyfriend was steadily climbing the rungs of the same drug business Neal was.

"And now, everyone, let's give a warm welcome to Mayor Mills!" Sidney said into the microphone, clapping his hands along with the rest of the crowd as they broke into polite applause.

"Oh, for the love of God," Regina muttered as Cora sashayed out, graciously waving like she was the Queen of England. Reluctantly, she sunk into her seat, folding her arms across her chest as she steeled her nerves for the speech that was going to be the biggest crock of bullshit this town had ever seen.

This "formula" Cora had wasn't going to solve any problems: it was only going to create more, Regina could just _tell._ If it even worked—which she highly doubted it did—it was going to end up being toxic or radioactive or poisonous. Whale might have been brilliant, but he was also incredibly stupid: because you just don't mess around with life and death.

You just don't.

* * *

 ** _Today…_**

 _"_ RUBY!" Emma screamed, and launched a heavy candle at the zombie; it snarled as it bounced off its head and staggered back. Ruby desperately scrabbled backward, her trembling hands searching for a weapon on the ground while Emma looked wildly around at the spilled shelves. Her eyes caught a glint of silver.

"I'm coming!" She snatched up the scissors and leapt over the pile of rubbish. The zombie turned and hissed at her, showing a full array of rotten teeth, and swung a clawed hand at her. Emma ducked and swiftly came back up, forcefully driving the scissors into its skull. Blood spattered as the blades cracked through the bones and sank into the zombie choked and fell heavily to the ground with a sickening _thud!_

 _"_ Are you okay?" she panted, holding out her bloody hand to Ruby. The other girl took it with shaking hands, allowing Emma to pull her to a stand. "Ruby, you all right?"

"No," Ruby said shakily. She nervously swept her gaze around the store, looking out the window behind Emma at the bloody, zombie-ridden streets. "Dude, we have to get out of here."

"I know," Emma said. "Come on, I think I know somewhere safe."

"Wh-were?" Ruby asked as Emma bent down to rummage for a broom handle or something to swing as a weapon.

"The lodge," Emma answered. "Neal gave me a key—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up—he gave you a _key?"_ Ruby squealed. "Wow, you guys are getting serious!"

"I know!" Emma beamed, emerging with a mop. "I never thought it was going to last this long, but—"

"EMMA, LOOK OUT!" Ruby screamed, pointing behind her. Emma whirled around as another zombie lunged for her. She swung the handle, hoping to catch it upside the head, but it grabbed the handle and tugged; the handle tore free from her hands and she stumbled backward.

Ruby grabbed a stapler and threw at the zombie, not fazing it for an instant. The mop fell with a clatter as he stepped toward them, gurgling. They threw as many things as they could get their hands on: candles, glue guns, whatever—it was a craft shop, for Christ's sake, so unless zombies were intimidated by scrapbook supplies, there wasn't a lot on hand.

They were backed against the wall now, running out of things to uselessly toss at the zombie. Emma bit back a sob: she was never going to see Neal again, and things had been going _so_ well…She had a key and everything.

"Ruby," she whimpered as the zombie advanced toward them. "There's something I want to tell you. In case we don't make it."

"I love you, too, Emma. You're the sister I never had."

"Thanks, me, too…but it's not that."

"What?" Ruby choked on her tears.

"I kissed Jason Downs in tenth grade, I'm sorry."

Ruby whipped her head around, staring with wide eyes." _What?_ "

"Don't worry, it wasn't anything special. But I'm still sorry."

"He was my _boyfriend!"_

"I know. That's why I'm sorry."

Ruby opened her mouth to retort, but the zombie let out a growl and slashed down at them. The girls screamed, ducking as it swung again. _This is it,_ Emma thought. _I'm going to die in a craft shop, surrounded by buttons and whimsical yarn._

"HEY!"

The three of them—Emma, Ruby, and Zombie—turned their heads. Two people had burst into the shop: a sandy-haired guy with a gun and a dark-haired girl with a bat, who she vaguely recognized them as one of the guys who guarded the fields and the mayor's daughter, Regina.

The guy held up the gun and fired matter-of-factly at the zombie. Emma jumped as it dropped to the ground, and looked back at the guy. He lowered the gun, jutting his chin toward them.

"Doing all right, ladies?"

"Robin," Regina said impatiently. "Stop playing Indiana Jones. You saved them, now let's just go."

Robin ignored her, walking toward Emma with a frown. "I know you…" he mused. "How do I know you?"

Emma glanced behind him, out the shattered window at the zombies staggering after the throngs of terrified townspeople. "Maybe now's not the best time for socializing?"

"Right, yeah," Robin nodded. "Come on, everyone walk behind me. I've got a gun."

"Yes, we _know_ ," Regina said, rolling her eyes.

"Actually, I know somewhere safer," Emma said, glancing between them and Ruby. "It's a ways out of town, but it's got shelter and weapons and my boyfriend—h-he gave me a key and everything."

Robin blinked at her. "Are you talking about the lodge?"

"Yeah." Emma modestly tucked her hair behind her ear. "My boyfriend's Neal Cassidy. He's kind of a big deal."

"And my boss," Robin grinned. "Well, one of them, anyway. Regina! Regina, did you hear this?"

"Yeah, it's nice, mazel tov, whatever—can we _go now?"_

 _"_ Good point. All right, everybody, come on," Robin said, beckoning for them to follow him. Emma ran beside him as they jumped over the spilled supplies and darted out the shop. "I'm Robin, by the way," he said, sticking his hand out as they ran into the street. She smiled and shook it.

"Emma."

" _Emma,_ right. Well, Emma—know how to hotwire a car?"

"Actually, yeah. Neal taught me."

Robin's smile faded. "Oh," he said, somewhat disappointed. "I thought you were going to say 'No', so then I was going to say 'Want to learn?' and sound really cool and—"

"SHUT UP!" Regina yelled. "Somebody, get the damn car started and let's _GO!"_

"Okay," Robin said quickly. "You're right." Then added to Emma in an undertone: "See how she is? Sometimes the zombies just _run_ from us before we have a chance to kill them."


	3. Killy and the Brain

"Did you hear that?"

Neal glanced up from his magazine. He listened for a moment, looking out over the empty pot fields, where the sun rays beat down on the green leaves and insects buzzed lazily. "I don't hear anything."

"No, I heard something," Killian insisted, shifting in his seat to get a better grip on the rifle. "I know I did."

"Mmm," Neal said absently, turning the page. Killian was one of the newer recruits: he still jumped if someone so much sneezed around him. Neal didn't have a lot of faith in him, as the guy seemed to be a little clueless, but you didn't have to be _smart_ to be a guard. Besides, he was a good shot.

"I'm telling you, mate, I definitely heard something."

Neal sighed and laid down his magazine. "All right, fine. What did you hear?"

Killian frowned slightly, putting a finger to his lips; then held it out. _Wait._

Neal waited, listening hard. "I don't—" He stopped, turning his head as the sound of distant gunshots broke through the air. "The hell is that?"

"You think it's from the town?" Killian asked. "Or are we too far away?"

"Hard to say," Neal frowned. "But something's definitely up."

"Should we go investigate?"

" _Investigate?_ What are you, a fucking detective now?" Neal scoffed, tossing down his magazine as he got up. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

Neal didn't answer him; he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone to call Emma. She practically _lived_ at the police station in the center of town—if there was anything going on, she'd know about it.

Her voice was breathless and panicky when she picked up. "H-hello?"

"Em, it's me," Neal said, stepping onto the lodge porch. "Is everything okay?"

"Um—" Emma's voice hitched—"w-well, not exactly."

"What's going on? I heard…things, I couldn't tell if it was from the town or not."

"Were they screams? Because if they were screams, then they were definitely from the town."

"More like gunshots."

"Oh, those, too."

"You…you wanna elaborate on any of this?"

"We're actually on our way to the lodge right now, so I'm just— _ROBIN!"_ she screamed suddenly, making Neal jump. " _EYES ON THE ROAD, MAN!"_ She returned to Neal, her voice much lower and sweeter. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

Before he had time to respond, she hung up the phone. Neal stared at the phone in his hand for a minute, trying to process what just happened. Some kind of disaster was going on, something that involved gunshots and screams—and now Emma was on her way over here, presumably to take shelter from whatever was happening in town.

"So?"

Neal turned around to see Killian standing behind him, raising his eyebrows expectantly. His rifle was hanging loosely in his hands, as if he couldn't be bothered to do his damn job. Neal looked at him in disbelief for a moment, slowly stepping toward him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked.

Killian blinked. "What? I-I was just—I was just—"

"Get back to your post, _Jones."_

"Right. Yeah. Sure." Killian bobbed his head a few times and hurried back to his post. Neal exhaled in exasperation, shaking his head. _Idiot._

He slipped the phone back in his pocket, and walked back to his chair. Killian glanced at him nervously as he sat down, tightening his grip on his rifle as if to show he was _extra-_ attentive to his guard duties now. Neal stared back at him. Killian slid his eyes forward and drew in a deep breath; after a minute, he twitched his gaze back to the side…to see Neal still staring at him.

"Wh-what?"

"Nothing," Neal shrugged, not taking his eyes off him.

"You're scaring me a little."

"That's good. I'm your boss. You should be very scared of me."

Killian attempted a smile. "Heh, heh."

"Why is that funny?" Neal frowned.

The smile slid off his face. "Sorry."

Neal looked at him for a minute, then slightly shook his head. "You're an idiot," he grimaced, turning back in his seat. "A real fucking idiot."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop talking."

"Ye— I mean—Sorry."

Neal picked up his magazine and started thumbing through it again while he waited for Emma. He wasn't worried. Screams, gunshots…very common occurrences in Storybrooke, as of late. Ever since the zombie had started trickling through the town, actually. With every new throng, there were more and more of them, and people were equally more frightened and more prepared to deal with them: a fatal head wound, most easily accomplished by a _gun,_ would strike them down. It was still unnerving though, as a single bite or scratch could infect you with the zombie-plague-thingy (no one was quite sure of the medical mechanics).

But even before that, screams and gunshots weren't out of his realm of normalcy. Being part of the inner circle of Gold's drug ring often involved him in situations where certain people had to be taken care of with a… _permanent_ means of disposal. Neal had seen his fair share of "cutting loose ends", though he was too high up to be bothered with carrying it out himself anymore—but screams and gunshots were just part of the job description.

He heard tires skidding to a halt against the pavement, and then several car doors opening. "That'll be Emma," he said, dropping the magazine as he stood up.

"Should I stay here?"

Neal raised his eyebrows. "No, come along," he said. "In fact, why don't we hold hands and skip over there, invite them to a tea party?"

Killian slowly sank back into his seat. "Point taken," he said softly.

Neal rolled his eyes, and shunted off toward the house. Where the hell did Robin find this guy, anyway? Did he realize what kind of business he was in? Did he _know_ that there were certain rules of etiquette that you followed—i.e., "don't try to bro out with your boss"? If he wasn't such a good shot, he would have been—

"Neal!"

Emma had burst through the front door, wild-eyed and frantic; she caught sight of him, and immediately launched forward, throwing her arms around his neck. Neal staggered back as he caught her, and looked around at the people who'd trailed in after her with wide eyes.

"Somebody want to clue me in, here?" he asked.

"The town's got a zombie stampede running through it," Robin grimaced. "Everyone's locking themselves up in the hospital or the station, trying to find shelter and weapons."

"But I told Ruby and everybody to come here," Emma said, pulling back. "Because you gave me the key and all. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, that's—I'm sorry, _zombie stampede?_ "

"It started off like the others," the dark-haired woman with the baseball bat said frankly. "Few zombies walking around, pop a bullet in their head and move on. But then there were more. And then more. And then they just kept coming, and now everything's fallen to shit, so we had to hotwire a car and drive up to your little druggie camp for shelter."

Neal frowned, turning his head. "Er, Robin—backstory, please?"

"My girlfriend, Regina," Robin explained. "She disapproves of the location, but _she's agreed to behave herself around my boss, hasn't she, Regina?"_

Regina folded her arms and muttered a reluctant, "Yeah, whatever." Robin exhaled, and turned back to Neal.

"Sorry for the drop-in like this, but I didn't have time to call. It's absolute _madness_ over there. We're talking, life-and-death madness." He paused thoughtfully. "Although, traffic was interesting—the zombies kept using the crosswalk and waiting for the lights to change."

" _Weird_."

"I _know_."

"Wow." Neal gave his head a little shake, then gently unwrapped Emma's arms, keeping hold of one hand. "All right, let's…God, that's fucking weird. Anyway, let's go. I'll get in touch with some people, get updated on the situation—"

"Actually, before we do that, can you find me a gun or something?" Regina regarded her bat distastefully. "If any zombies find their way over here, I don't want to have play tee-ball with their heads. I'd rather blast them off from a safe distance."

Neal blinked, a little startled by her bluntness, He wasn't used to people talking to him this way; even _Robin_ always made sure to maintain a certain level of respect around him. "Yeah," he said. "Uh—follow me out back, we'll find some guns."

"Follow him out back, guys," Emma ordered with an approving nod.

"I just said that, Em."

"I know. I was enforcing."

"…Okay, then." Neal raised his eyebrows at the group, beckoning for them to follow him. "Okay, let's go."

They obediently trailed after him as he led them through the house and out the back door. Five pairs of footsteps clunked down the porch steps, then padded against the soft grass to the marijuana fields.

"This—" Neal said, sweeping his arms widely at the vast expanse of land—"is my kingdom."

"Oh. My. God." Regina looked around in a mixture of awe and disgust. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully; then looked over at Killian's chair, where just the top of his head was visible. "Hey, Jones!"

"Hmm?" Killian whipped around.

"Get over here. Got some people for you to meet."

"Some people to—? W _hoa!"_ His foot had snagged around his chair, and he tumbled to the ground, face-planting hard. The five of them stared at him as he struggled to a stand, groaning and grunting in pain.

"Shit," Neal muttered, shaking his head. "Seriously, Robin, where did you find this guy?"

"I was short a guy on a run, he was hitchhiking, so…" Robin shrugged. "You know. Match made in Purgatory."

"From now on, call me before Purgatory, okay?" Neal blew out a breath, watching Killian brush grass off his knees. "You're _killing_ me here, Jones."

"Right. Sorry." Killian straightened up, dusting his hands off. "So! You said you had people for me to…?" He trailed off, his gaze going right past Neal and settling somewhere behind him. Neal raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder at— _Oh._ Ruby.

Goddamn it. Not _now…_

Ruby, for her part, didn't look particularly thrilled about the attention. Evidently, Killian's little performance there hadn't impressed her. She folded her arms, scoffing and rolling her eyes to the side.

Killian stared her for another moment, then blinked rapidly, and gave his head a little shake. "Sorry, got distracted," he said. "Er…what were we talking about?"

"Emma, Regina, Ruby," Neal said, pointing to each of them in turn. "They need guns, and I need you to make sure they know how to use them."

" _I_ do," Emma smiled, nudging him with her elbow. "Sheriff's daughter, remember?"

"And believe me, I know how to use a gun," Regina said flatly. No one doubted her for an instant: it was extremely believable that Regina would know how to use a deadly weapon, and it just seemed natural to imagine her handling one.

"So…" Killian swiveled on his heels, pointing to Ruby. "That leaves you."

"Ruby doesn't know how to shoot," Emma piped up. Ruby shot her a wide-eyed look, hitting her in the arm.

" _Dude!"_ she hissed. "What the hell?"

"You'll have to teach her," Emma went on, completely unfazed. "She doesn't know a single goddamn thing. She's pretty much useless, unless you have a stapler on hand for her to throw."

Neal frowned, turning to Robin questioningly. Robin shook his head, waving his hand. _Later, I'll explain later._

"So, that means, it's just you and me, darling," Killian grinned at her.

Ruby grimaced. "Well, I hope you're better at teaching than walking, or the zombies are going to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa— _zombies?_ " Killian repeated, holding up a hand. He looked around wildly, as if expecting to see them peeping out of the trees. "There's more of them?"

"Apparently, there's a stampede," Neal said with a shrug. "And in case they make their way up here, I'd like everyone to know how to take those motherfuckers out, so can you please put your eyes back in your head and find the guns?"

"A stampede?" Killian said in a panicked voice, fanning himself to get air. "Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God."

"Nerves of steel, that one," Robin muttered.

"How this idiot managed to survive long enough to make it to the end of the world…" Neal shook his head, sighing. "I'll never know."

 **Please review! I've had writer's block for so long, please don't make me go through it again. _PLEASE?!_**


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